Jim Sheridan tells how his mum suffered lifelong guilt over granny's childbirth death
The impact drove Sheridan to make his smash hit movie 'In the Name of the Father'.
His mum blamed herself for his granny's death and it instilled in him a life long instinct to defend the falsely accused.
This drove him to make his smash hit movie 'In the Name of the Father' starring Daniel Day Lewis about wrongly convicted IRA suspect Gerry Conlon and his father Giuseppe plus his latest film 'Re-creation' which deals with the Sophie Toscan du Plantier murder and the public pursuit of the main suspect, the late Ian Bailey.
The former English journalist spent his whole life denying any involvement in the horrific killing and went to his grave proclaiming his innocence. Read more
Re-creation premiered to positive reviews at the Tribeca Film Festival, in New York last week.
In an interview with the Hollywood Reporter Sheridan said:' My mother blamed herself for killing her mother, who died in childbirth.
"So it was inherent in me, in the womb from the f*cking start, this feeling for the wrongly accused.
Jim Sheridan played the role of the jury foreman in 'Re-Creation'
Today's News in 90 Seconds - June 14 2025
'I have a pre-natal sense of guilt.
"Whenever that happens when I see somebody wrongly accused, I go nuts, you know, I can't deal with it.'
Sheridan has been fascinated by the Sophie story for the last decade.
He made the five part series on the case, Murder at the Cottage, for Sky but didn't feel it did the story justice.
He does not believe Ian Bailey killed her and that there is little or not evidence against him.
He also feels neither Sophie or Bailey received any justice.
The new film is set in a fictionalised courtroom setting and recreates a trial based on all the facts of the case so far.
Jim Sheridan on location filming Murder at the Cottage, his series about the death of Sophie Toscan Du Plantier. Photograph by Barbara McCarthy � Sky UK 2021
Most of the action is in the jury room just like the old Hollywood movie 12 Angry Men
Made on a €2 million budget it stars Aidan Gillen, Vicky Krieps, John Connors, and Colm Meaney as Bailey. Sheridan himself also features as one of the 12 jurors.
The film was shot and recorded between West Cork, Dublin and Luxembourg.
He told the Hollywood Reporter he blends fiction, docudrama and emotion in a way that defies conventions.
He said: 'I suppose I wanted to put into fiction what I couldn't put into documentary reality. I wanted to show the blur between the lines between documentary, reality and fiction."
Co Director David Merriman said: "We're hopeful that at least in Ireland this film could start a conversation which will drive people, you know, to do the right thing.
"To search for justice and find out who actually killed Sophie Toscan du Plantier, rather than just saying,' Oh, Ian Bailey didmit' and that's good for us because he's English so he's a villain."
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Irish Times
2 hours ago
- Irish Times
Timothy O'Grady: ‘You feel miserable most of the time when you're writing'
'I don't feel I have a capacity to make up a novel,' the writer Timothy O'Grady tells me. We're talking via Zoom from his home in Poland ('50 minutes away from Toruń, where Copernicus was born'), where O'Grady, 74, has lived since 2007. This might be a surprising statement, as we're here today to talk about O'Grady's new novel, Monaghan – his fourth. What he means is that he doesn't see his strength as 'mak[ing] up a character [or] situation'. Instead 'they come kind of surreptitiously' and sometimes from real events and people. That is certainly the case with Monaghan, which as the title suggests ('It's just such a beautiful word'), is a book about and around Ireland, set in Belfast , Monaghan and south Armagh , as well as in San Francisco. It centres around a number of men, all conflicted by their acts and history. First is Generous McCabe, a man known 'for his wildness and wealth' who was 'as old as the century himself' – and a republican, a gun runner for the IRA . He is based on Martin Walton, O'Grady says Walton had been 'out in the [1916] Rising and in the IRA. He'd been interned in Ballykinler, and he gave violin lessons in the internment camp to his fellow prisoners. When he came out, he had all these violins to sell because the truce had interrupted his lessons. He sold them quickly through a newspaper advertisement, and out of that became the largest retail musical instrument dealer in Europe' (Walton's Musical Instrument Galleries). READ MORE More central still to Monaghan's story is the character known as Ryan, an artist in San Francisco who, in a previous life, had been an IRA man responsible for brutal killings. He too is based on a real person. 'I can say his name now. It's Frank Quigley.' (Quigley died in 2022, and O'Grady wrote a tribute to him .) Quigley had 'stepped into this world of extreme violence', says O'Grady. 'They thought they were going to solve this 900-year-old dilemma with great enthusiasm.' But Quigley 'had always wanted to be an artist in his youth. He was imprisoned in Portlaoise and he asked the prison governor if they had art classes. And they didn't, but they did have embroidery classes. So he took the embroidery classes in Portlaoise. And eventually when he came out he did a degree in an art college in Belfast.' That friction between creation and destruction – between art and violence – is at the heart of the novel. How does involvement in acts of terrible violence ('the peelers took him away in a bag' is the outcome for one victim) square with the creative impulse? 'I was just wondering how you would get the self-belief to make art,' says O'Grady. As part of the preparation for Monaghan, he 'asked these different people what it's like to kill someone, and each of them said: you can't go back to who you were'. Of course, the people they killed also can't go back to who they were. 'The story could look like I'm gullibly romantic,' admits O'Grady. 'The Irish-American kind of coming home with sentimental ideas about it. And people could say that's fair enough.' But O'Grady has family experience in this area too. 'My cousin was in the Vietnam War. He was this very glamorous, witty, charismatic character, and he went to Vietnam and came back and more or less retreated into this husk, and drank himself to death for 40 years.' (This pain finds an echo in the novel, where a character 'blew out his brains' 20 years after returning from Vietnam.) I was straining for some kind of comedy. And it wasn't at all funny The story of Monaghan, then, is invented but inspired by reality. Finishing a painting is 'an anticlimax,' according to Ryan in the book, but from O'Grady's account of the gruelling gestation of the book, for him it may have been more a relief. 'I thought this book was finished in 2018,' O'Grady says. 'Then I sent it to a friend whose opinion I respect and he said, 'I can't relate to this guy'. [The artist-terrorist character of Ryan.] 'And I couldn't get this out of my head, you know? So I rewrote it, to win his approval, if not to please him. And I sent it again in 2020, and he declared himself satisfied!' But that was just the beginning: the book is published by Unbound, and went through a long crowdfunding process. 'And they finally committed to the book, and I reread it last year – and I was horrified by it. The characters were just too cartoonish. I was straining for some kind of comedy. And it wasn't at all funny. So I rewrote it in three months.' Even when a story comes to O'Grady from other sources, the challenge is that 'I have to make it live' . 'It's a very different experience,' he says. 'You feel miserable most of the time when you're writing. At least that's how I find it. You're just throwing yourself at it and failing, most of the time.' There's another aspect to Monaghan that we haven't mentioned yet – many of Ryan's paintings are represented in the text, illustrated by the artist Anthony Lott. (They're reproduced in black and white in the book, and there's a QR code to view them in full colour on Lott's website.) O'Grady was inspired to do this by reading John Berger's novel A Painter of Our Time, and wanting to see the paintings described in it. This is something that O'Grady has done before. Many readers will have come to him through his 1997 novel I Could Read the Sky , which included – was built around – photographs by Steve Pyke. What's the appeal of this approach? Musicians in I Could Read the Sky. Photograph: Steve Pyke 'It relieves you of the text,' he says. 'It works in a different part of the consciousness. It's more subliminal somehow.' With I Could Read the Sky, he adds: 'It relieved you of all that stuff you normally have to do with a novel, setting up all this stuff, describing everything and interconnecting everyone. I could go straight in.' 'With [Monaghan], I just thought you should see them [the paintings]. I liked the humour and the imagination in them. I mean, some people don't think they belong. There's no place for this stuff.' But O'Grady came of age as a reader in the 1970s, when writers like Gabriel García Márquez were gaining popularity in the West. 'And it's just so full of life, and not worried about what is or isn't permitted in the novel. He didn't care, he just wrote it.' Now that the long process of writing Monaghan is over, O'Grady says he's working on 'helping Stephen Rea write his memoir'. Is it difficult to write in another person's voice? 'In a way,' says O'Grady, but 'I've known him for a very, very long time. I met him in the 1970s when he was doing Playboy [of the Western World] and Endgame and all that stuff. And he's my daughter's godfather. [So] I'm very familiar with his life and his voice and his opinions.' 'But if I was asking him questions … ' O'Grady adds. 'If he's asked a question, it's like you've thrown a bucket of cockroaches on him. He just can't stand it. So we're co-authors, and I have some licence.' O'Grady was born in Chicago in 1951 and moved to Donegal at the age of 22, and lived in Ireland, England and Spain before settling in Poland . His father's parents were from Kerry , and on his mother's side, 'further back, there was somebody named Daniel O'Connell, who apparently had children all over the place'. But 'I didn't grow up in a very Irish-American world', he says. Although O'Grady still visits the US and says he loves being there, he doesn't expect to move back permanently. Largely this is because 'I like very much where I am now'. But he is, unsurprisingly, not enamoured of the current political climate there. 'Well, it isn't as if there was a democracy there particularly over the last 30 years,' he says. 'I just thought this morning, the [multi-billionaire conservative political donors] Koch brothers are running the world. Whatever they decide seems to be happening.' 'But now , this is…' O'Grady is almost lost for words. 'You know, people in black balaclavas [ICE agents], picking people up off the street and throwing them into vans. The blizzard of unconstitutional activity. They have no regard for the courts, they have no regard for the Constitution. It does seem fascist. 'You know, I saw [Bill] Clinton talking in Berlin,' O'Grady says, 'about a doctor who had got up before him, talking about extending life. And he said, 'I hope they hurry up, because I don't have that much time left.' And then I thought, will Trump be wearing laurel wreaths and a toga in the year 2187? Is this what's going to happen?' He laughs – because what other option is there? Monaghan is published by Unbound. Timothy O'Grady will be speaking at the Hinterland Festival on June 29th at noon.
Irish Independent
4 hours ago
- Irish Independent
‘I am the queen of being ghosted,' says Love Island's Dubliner Megan Forte Clarke
The Dubliner has been in a couple with English landscape gardener Tommy Bradley and, coincidentally, the pair share Italian heritage. So far, their 'coupling' on the show has been smooth sailing, but it is still early days in the explosive dating series. The reality dating show, where singles known as 'islanders' live together in a luxurious villa and must couple up to stay in the competition, is expected to run for approximately eight weeks. Viewers vote on their favourite couples and the winning pair at the end can walk away with a cash prize. Before entering the Spanish villa, Forte Clarke, from Finglas, shared exactly what she is looking for in a man. 'I tend to go for personality over looks, which has not done me very well in the past, but if I was to narrow down a type, I love a Timothee Chalamet-esque kind of vibe,' she said. 'I do love a ginger as well, but I think that's the Irish in me.' Forte Clarke (24) now lives in Brighton in southern England, where she works as an energy broker. She is also an aspiring actor, having trained as a musical theatre performer, and starred in panto. With her Irish charm and quick wit, she has been talked up as the new Maura Higgins for this year's show. Longford woman Maura gained fame in 2019 as a finalist on the fifth season of Love Island UK and has since carved out a successful career in television, modelling and presenting. It looks as if a similar success could be on the cards for well-liked Forte Clarke. When asked how that made her feel before she entered the Love Island villa, she said: 'Unreal! I'm like, yes, thank you. It's the biggest compliment ever, and a big boost.' Discussing whether she is feisty and outspoken like Higgins, Forte Clarke said: 'Definitely. I am my mother's daughter in that way. 'I'm a fiery lady, but I think, first and foremost, the Irish side of having a laugh and stuff comes first. But if I do have a problem with someone, I'm not afraid to say it.' Recalling her mum's reaction when she broke the news that she would be flying to the Spanish island, Forte Clarke said: 'She loves it. She loves Love Island, so she is buzzing with it.' Forte Clarke also considers her lookalike mum, Alison, her best friend. 'She is so clued up on it which makes me feel better, because I'd rather her know what goes on than for her to be shocked, but she's delighted.' Forte Clarke previously described herself as a modern-day Bridget Jones, to which she added: 'My dating life is hell and horror. I am the queen of being ghosted, so I feel in that sense I would compare myself to her. It just never seems to be going well for me.' Reflecting on her decision to give Love Island a shot, she said: 'I've done the whole dating apps. I'm just excited because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity 'It's just a lot, the whole Hinge and Tinder [online dating process]. It's just awkward meeting up and it never goes well – for me anyway. 'I know some people find their husbands on Hinge, but I'm like, what Hinge are you using? I decided this was right for me, because you can't ghost me while I'm in the villa, because I'll be in the kitchen.' Despite being catapulted to overnight fame, Megan insisted she has friends in the industry who have been a guiding hand. 'I'm friends with Harriett [Blackmore] from last season. We worked together in Brighton for two years, so she's prepared me, and she's told me what to pack and stuff. 'We actually went to the same university, but not at the same time, and we worked in [clothing store] Flannels together. I feel like that has been a big help having her. 'I'm just excited because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." The Dubliner added she hoped her stage persona would work to her advantage on the hit show. 'I feel it puts me in a position where I'm used to meeting new people a lot, but in terms of confidence, I feel like I've been this way since I came out of the womb. 'It's a blessing and a curse – I'll yap to anyone.'
Irish Examiner
5 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Book review: Novellas of a Nobel prize winner translated for a whole new audience
The novels and short stories of Pontoppidan, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1917, reflect Danish political and cultural life from the perspective of social indignation and social realism. Yet they are leavened with brilliant satire and sarcasm to ridicule establishment hypocrisy. Such is the fluency of Larkin's translation and his use of familiar idiom that the two novellas here are refreshing and a joy to read. Pastor Thorkild Müller, a hopeless theology student, is sent to the Greenland colony to proselytise and preach. It's considered a lifelong exile for dunces. He is an unkempt, bearlike big man who has suffered much abuse and humiliation — but is not as slow-witted as he seems. The ice, the fjords, the harshness of lonely winter and the revitalising light of summer, help form the man, bring him closer to god but closer still to the indigenous Intuit people whose simplicity and harmony with nature draws him intimately into their culture. This is vivid writing, reminiscent of Knut Hamsun on landscape, and Halldór Laxness on the comedy of life. Müller goes native, marries, has children. It is many years later, after his wife dies, that he experiences the longing to go back to Denmark. There, his new parishioners are wary of the eccentric, uncouth, ill-dressed pastor who smells of fish, wandering the forests and hills, scaring the kids. But they come to love him and his down-to-earth spirituality. However, when he cancels tithes, a move which crosses the line, threatens order and his ecclesiastical superiors, the plot against him thickens and 'the white bear' has a choice to make. Rebellion of a different type is the theme of the second novella, The Rearguard, which is here translated into English for the first time. For someone who was never involved in organised politics (but sympathising with the worker and peasant), Pontoppidan perceptively portrays the dogmatism of Danish painter, 'Red Jørgen' Hallager, who rails against cosmopolitan, conventional art in favour of 'social realism', a principle he holds dear, at great cost to all around him, including his frail and loving wife, Ursula. However, while it is faintly possible to admire the idealism of 'Red Jørgen', ultimately it is impossible to sympathise with him and his destructive rampages. He follows Ursula to Rome, where her father, a connoisseur of the arts, State Councilor Branth — whom Hallager despises as the epitome of bourgeois society — swans with an expat 'Dutch colony' of cultural aesthetes, backslapping each other at their regular soirées. In the marital apartment, which daddy paid for, naïve Ursula believes she can tame her new husband ('you great, big barbarian wild man!'). She calls upon him to embrace the spectacular view from their balcony, the splendour of the spiritual capital, this centre of western civilisation. He, on the other hand, obsesses with his view that the world is dominated by the philistines and sell-outs — 'Arch scoundrels, Mountebanks … Infamous hypocrites' out to 'bamboozle the people, all the better to rob them and the fruits of their labors, blind and keep them in misery.' What drives him is a childhood grudge he bears against society because his father was falsely charged with embezzlement and imprisoned. The most sympathetic and decent character is Thorkild Drehling, who secretly loves Ursula, and is a Hallager devotee who gave up a family fortune to be beside his hero, only to be also denounced by Hallager. Regardless of who is ultimately right or wrong in determining what is art, if there ever can be such a conclusion, the fundamentalism of Hallager provides the dynamic for this sad, if not tragic and moral story. NYRB, this month, is also publishing Pontoppidan's masterpiece A Fortunate Man, again translated by Paul Larkin, another great addition to rediscovering overlooked or out-of-print works.
